


Sincerely, Icarus Abbacus

by asherall



Series: Nocturnal Letters [2]
Category: Nocturnal Academy Series - Ethan Somerville
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Letters, Other, Post-Canon, no Andre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asherall/pseuds/asherall
Summary: Icarus Abbacus felt guilty.(Takes place directly after 20: Universal Magick)
Series: Nocturnal Letters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886953
Comments: 5
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

Alice,

As I’m writing this, you’ve only just entered the astral plane. You’ll be here soon enough.

My reasons for leaving left me with a . . . guilty conscious. These letters were my way of addressing that. You’re under no obligation to read them, but I’d feel better if they were in your possession.

My reasons for coming back are complicated, to say the least. I’m in my Paradise, as you well know, but I’m not about to return to Earth. Not yet.

Just a few more minutes,

Icarus


	2. Letter One

Dear Alice Dribble,

After our last adventure, I was left to come to terms with my mortality. This is why I have chosen to remain in Paradise for and indeterminate amount of time. I’ve been running experiments and looking for other ways to extend one’s lifespan. Immortality isn’t the answer to everything, and nobody’s truly immortal. Of all people, I should know that.

Damn my guilty conscious. 

I’m writing to no-one. I’ll remain hidden in my Paradise until the end of days. No-one, not even you, will be permitted to find me. Forming . . . attachments to people has only created more problems. They interrupt my experiments and make life difficult and refuse to listen to logic. They scorn me for what I am.

You’re smart enough, so you already figured that much out.

I can hear you. We’ve been over the no-hitting-machines thing before. Punching my physical body does nothing. Calling my name will not change my mind. Thankfully, all of you people have been doing this less frequently. But you know that I’m going to remain hidden. People have survived without the great Professor Abbacus for many years. The world will survive without having me rush in to solve every problem that comes up. Nobody on Earth is smart enough to replace me or even properly solve problems, but people - including you - are smart enough to fix most things. It will take you longer, and your solutions will be far from optimal, but the Earth will survive.

Silly sentiment. I could come in and fix some of the problems people have muttered in an instant.

How long has passed? Six months? A year? Time is different here. Journeying between planes certainly makes measuring those sorts of times difficult. I could do it, mind you, but it means nothing to me.

I could set up another machine to check in on Earth. Keep up some knowledge of everything else that has been going on - like one of those damn Daydweller machines. Pay attention to everything that you’ve done. You should have graduated by now . . .

It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters are my continued experiments in Technomancy and Necromancy; experimenting with Magick that no Nightdweller would deem legal. I’ve ideas to marry the two fields. Undead machines would provide plenty of possibilities - plenty of things to experiment with that I could never do on Earth. Nobody wants to experiment with Necromancy beyond Necronites and curious University students. And those are only there for the forbidden knowledge that satisfies surface-level curiosities. They’re scared of what they might learn.

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus


	3. Letter Two

Alice,

You’re broadcasting your pain. I’m working and can feel your misery like a migraine. Get a grip on yourself - for my sake, if not yours. I’ll be back in my own time. You know that more than anybody else.

It’s only been two weeks? Feels like a year . . .

It was unfair of me to abandon you that quickly and without warning. But I needed to, and - well, it doesn’t matter how I justify myself to myself, does it? I’ve made my choices and am writing letters that will never be read. You’ll forget about me by the time I come back. I hope that you move on and find someone else to annoy. And we’ve had that “you should talk to someone else” conversation several times before. Granted, most people you talk to try to kill you at some point, but there will be someone out there who doesn’t. Even a paranoid undead mage knows that.

You’ve faded away again. Good. I was getting sick of that rubbish.

(Not in that way - never in that way).

I haven’t properly created anybody to talk to in this Paradise. No Del - not yet - and no faux Circus Infinitus. Just creatures of Necromancy. They’re beautiful in their own way. Yet nothing I could do would properly substitute the one thing I miss. I can program machines to give me the praise I want, and I can create people who look like people I once knew and will all say exactly what I think they would say. But that is far from sitting in my laboratory and talking to a pesky student (or the occasional teacher).

(I cannot write that. Not yet. I pride myself on being above such silly emotions. No, stop pointing out how my disappearance means that I’m not free of emotions.)

You aren’t here. Nor will a construct of you ever be here. I hear your voice in the back of my mind, continuously pointing out things and asking questions. You act like a young child and bug me at any time of day.

It isn’t actually you in any way. It’s just something that feels like it should be there so my subconscious put it there. And that voice will be gone soon enough. Not because I forgot about you - never that- but because it’s an insult to you.

Grr.

Shut up, Dribble.

I’m trying to solve the immortality problem. It took Magick to create an immortal being - a lack turns us mortal - but there has to be a . . . traditional way of doing it. Without a body for a body, Eighth circle spell.

That and a better mana generator. That person was onto something. But for it to be practical, it needs to be portable. How else will we explore no-Magick areas of Earth and space? There are so many things that I can only prepare for. 

They keep exploding. Mana generators are ridiculously finicky, and Nature dislikes immortal/Undead beings per default. If there is a way to do that I will find it. Even if it takes a century to do that.

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus


	4. Letter Three

Dear Alice,

The mana machine is working. I’ve made it small enough that I can just strap it on like a backpack and strap it on whenever. It’s going to be useful on my next project. 

I think you remember that the astral plane can be used to go roughly anywhere. The improved version of the mana machine will first be tested in a low-Magick region on Pluto. That planet is probably the safest place to test the machine. The planet is littered with low and normal Magick regions - one can step to and from these places for days without having any problems. Despite this, I will still be the first person to properly explore it. (Then again, we know how few people can properly navigate the astral plane. You learned a bit - are you still trying? But don’t waste time trying to look for me. That will happen in due time.)

However, this is safe enough. I have been in low-Magick areas before - I will function just fine, even if the mana machine suddenly stops working. There is nothing that should go wrong. This is a test run, after all - but it will work well. No, I’m not nervous. There’s no reason for me to reassure you that my experiments will work just fine. We both know that they will. (And if you ever read this, the test runs will have happened long ago).

Enough of an old cyborg’s ramblings. Are your classes going well? No, they should have granted you your Master’s by now, and eff whatever rules they have in place. You’ll have a PhD within the year, if you wanted, though it might not be worth it. Experience matters more than the arbitrary labels that institutions want to place on things. 

Take a break - from school and experience, really. You have enough to go on a well-deserved (and needed) vacation. 

Oh, but I know you. Taking up extra electives during the normal school year (even since your first year), summer classes, and late days in the library (and late nights in the Daydweller library - though you never explained why. Habit). A second degree on the way? But seriously, take a break!

Have you gotten around to looking at the library? It’s a real workout, but that means that they haven’t quite had the time to purge some of the more . . . illegal books. If you can get up to the seventh or eighth floor, there are some wonderful books on summoning and Necromancy. I suspect that you might take after that path at some point. You’ve been so curious about every single aspect of the universe that there is no reason for you to avoid anything that people frown upon or label “forbidden.” (Though you tend to ignore those labels - maybe too much for your own good).

And now, we’re off to Pluto.

No - we’ve been through this before. There is nobody else here beyond mindless constructs of mine. Nothing here is supposed to resemble any person that I know in real life. Even the constructs of animals not on Earth - like the beardog - are not meant to resemble any being that I know. “We” is a figure of speech that I have used. It doesn’t even have to do with my mental representation of you - once again, not literal, just the way I can hear your voice in the back of my head.

~~ miss ~~

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm getting teary-eyed when working on this. seriously.


	5. Letter Four

Alice Dribble,

I have recently finished the test-run of the mana-machine on Pluto. As expected, it was a success. Not only does the machine work well on low-Magick areas, it works astoundly well in no-Magick areas. I believe it had something to do with how low-Magick areas still have some Magick (all of which is being muted), while no-Magick areas are dead per default, which lets the Magick “fill the void”, so to speak. (I’ve never been great at explaining these sorts of things . . . at this point, it’s an experiment. Don’t have much of a proper explanation, yet. The important thing is that the machine works.)

So that’s one major problem out of the way. I’m still working on making it lighter, smaller, a little more efficient . . . so many ways to improve on it without taking away the functionality. And I’m not adding things that “aren’t bugs, they’re features.” (Yeah, I wanted to say that. And yes, I do keep up with modern technology. That company isn’t doing too well, in my opinion. They put too much emphasis on design without taking a look at functionality. )

How are classes? You should be halfway through the first term by now. This is when we sat down to assign the major projects, give students a reason to start freaking out about finals, and remind them not to take our classes next semester. (I’m joking. There’s a few of you who we always want to come back. But most of you get scared off.)

Are you even taking classes next term? Probably. But after this year, you’re done, you hear me? Get away from that damn school! From all of them! Haven’t you had enough of school by now? At this rate, you might as well become a teacher. Take my job, will you?

Fine, fine, I’ll stop.

(But seriously. After all that’s happened, I’m sure that they would take you back. The benefit of teaching at the so-called worst academy is that nobody else wants a job. Qualifications be damned.)

And at this point, I’m avoiding people. There. I said that. I don’t want to see any of you again, not for a long time now. I’m avoiding all of these limitations and near-death experiences. What is it with near-death experiences? I’m supposed to be immortal, damnit! There has to be a better way of doing this. And it’s so much safer out here, in Paradise.

Yes, I’m irritated, Dribble. (And why am I even trying to tell you all of this? “Well, I’m your best friend, sir.” Yes, but I’m not exactly prone to bursts of human emotion. “Sir, I think that your lack of human emotion means that your ‘bursts of human emotion’ are . . . stronger than most others.” Shut up, Dribble!)

Sincerely,

Professor Abbacus


	6. Letter Five

Alice Dribble,

I regret to tell you that, after these many months, I have made constructs of people. You and Del are the only ones that I have made. Del acts the same as he does every time I come here. He isn’t a Necronite; all I do is return him to his pre-Necronite form. Beyond that, he has his same personality. He is far from being as curious as you are - he spends most of his time in awe over everything that I have done with the Circus Infinitus.

And yes, I did rebuild the Circus Infinitus. It was out of sheer frustration with the immortality experiments that I did this - I needed something else to work on, something else to fill all that empty space of frustration. Something for me to work on without wanting to kill something. What a peaceful project to improve upon. At the rate things are going, it might as well be the Amusement Park of the Undead. I may or may not have taken some inspiration from the things I saw on Earth. Why people enjoy whipping through the air at tremendous speeds is beyond me, but it is fun to figure out how to make everything properly work. How dangerous can these things get before they kill people? (That seems to be why people go on these dangerous things in the first place.)

You’re yelling now . . .

Yes, I had created a construct of you. Put a lot of emphasis on had - you were only “here” for an hour or so before I “deleted” you. And that was not out of hatred for you. “You” acted exactly like you in enough ways that I had begun to think that you were, well, you. That you had somehow wormed your way into this place and wanted a full description of every single thing that I had built up here. “You” wanted a tour of everything that was here - from the many buildings and factories to the experiments and all of the creatures I had here. 

After an hour, you told me that it was best that I delete you. You said that creating a version of you was my worst idea yet; that I came here to get away from people, and that if I wanted to see you I should do so myself. You yelled and got on my nerves until it felt like I had no choice other than to delete you.

Both creating you and deleting you hurt me, for lack of a better word. You were my best friend - and the only one I had really had after Del became a Necronite. Even he - this version of him - told me that deleting you was for the better. He did not want me to end up confusing reality with fiction and kept pointing out . . . the same points that you made. Naturally. 

So I’m left to work with him on the Circus Infinitus for however long we well. It gets a bit tedious with him talking about what I should be doing and then critiquing all of my new additions to the Circus. He’ll learn to deal with them. Given how he isn’t even real, he should learn to deal with them quickly enough. But old Del was always so resistant to change . . .

Then there’s the Dragon problem. In the similar vein of creating and deleting you, I realized that creating Drago (or his mother) might not be the best idea. This left me with trying to create a dragon. Yes, I had to use the word trying. For whatever reason, I cannot create a proper dragon. I can create a machine one, and I can create something that looks like a proper dragon. But it does not move or live in any way - all it does is resemble a dragon.

Have you had the time to see Drago recently? Then again, leaving the University can be a proper pain. The Omniportallis is the most efficient way to do that (and the only efficient way), but I don’t believe you have access to it there. And, knowing you, you have been too caught up in your studies and whatnot. I doubt that you’ve finished reading the library already.

I can’t help but wonder how you’re coping with my absence. There were countless days (and the occasional night) that you spent bugging me when you needed someone to talk to or couldn’ sleep. Toby, Carla, and Milly should be taking good care of you - though Milly might be glad to see me gone. Knowing Toby - well, has he done anything to get himself killed yet? That boy’s constant hunger for adventure is going to get him killed at some point. Without Carla, he might have been dead already. 

I can only hope that you, Alice, are still around by the time I come back. In all my time teaching, I have never met a student who was as much of a trouble magnet as you are.

And now that we’re on the topic of school - it should be the end of term by now, if you’re still in school. Your finals probably went well. I expect all As now that you no longer have me grading your work. (Unless you met someone equally as strict a grader as I was?) 

See, now you’re beating yourself up over getting an 87 on your final. Alice, that is the highest grade I ever gave a student. You know that. It was a dramatic (and unexpected) improvement over your grade on your first final in my class. Oh, calm down. Not-talking to you is the same as talking to you. You engraved your personality onto my brain -  _ all _ of my brains! 

With all of this time to spare, I might as well create finals for the rest of my teaching years. Maybe revise lesson plans - I still have your list of suggestions. D’ya think Mr. Coleman (or whoever else is teaching the lower science classes) would be offended if I redid his lesson plans? Or created another level of science classes. All of those students that hover between the higher and lower class should have a place to go and be mediocre.

No, if I did that the only people who would be in my classes would be . . . you. (I would have added Andre to that list, but after both of those incidents, he counts for nothing other than a Nocturnal Academy student. Barely. Is he dead yet? I can’t remember him going to University. I hope he’s dead. You could even kill him for me. After all of those times he almost did us in, he deserves to die.)

Sincerely,

Professor Abbacus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where we start to dive into AU territory.


	7. Letter Six

Dear Alice -

\- no, to nobody in particular. My brains reminding me of Andre Sauvage brought up a long list of ramblings that I still struggle to sort through. Then again, I never take the time to sort through them on paper, so I suppose that it’s about damn time.

When he walked into class, I honestly thought that he was one of the brightest minds that I had ever seen. He knew answers to all of my questions (except for the ones that only you knew the answer to). His essays and projects were brilliant. And he had a remarkably refined sense of curiosity - asking just enough questions for me to not be annoyed by his behavior, but also enough to get all of the information that he needed. Remarkable. Really.

However, his increasing amount of curiosity towards the Da Vinci Codex raised too many red flags. Finding out that he was responsible for the gremlins only made things worse. And then - which I don’t think I ever mentioned - he kept trying to plant seeds of doubt in my head concerning you. He tried to blame you for gremlins, and said that you were responsible for all of the accidents; you were going to keep doing things and then suddenly fix them and proclaim yourself the savior. That still raised red flags. (Though I will admit that there were times when I wondered if he was right, there was too much evidence to prove that he was wrong.)

Him coming back and trying to get back in your good graces all of the sudden (while blaming it on family problems) was too much. He tried to kill  _ both _ of us multiple times. Neither of us could let him have a go at round six. Madam Nocturna still let him come back. I suppose he proved that he did have valid family problems that led to his running away, though he certainly didn’t get to come back into our little group. Have any of you even bothered with contacting him? I’m sure he wormed his way into the Nocturnal University somehow - his family certainly has money to spare, after whatever keeps going on in their drama section of the world. And he still ended up being one of the top students of your class, despite being one of the most . . .

Well, he was still liked by most everybody else, seeing as he tried to do the most unpopular people in the school in. He was popular by some standard. The strange things people do when they ignore all of the relevant facts.

There was nothing that actually happened after those incidents. Still, all of his behaviors continued to bug me, even after he was forced to be in no classes that I was taught and after Madam Nocturna made sure that he could not share any classes with you. We saw him during dinners - did his strange behavior ever bother you? Did you even notice it? That cold, calculating gaze that went over every single person that walked by him. The discussions he had with other people were so precisely done. I hate him - yet I cannot help but admire some of his manners. So refined, for someone so young. Yet he was able to successfully cast himself out of any possibility of “socializing” with the higher class of academic.

Oh - correct me if I’m wrong, but the two of you were . . . a couple for a brief period of time. Then there was Harley, but the two of you kept having problem after problem. Seriously. What was wrong with the two of you? He kept creating problem after problem after problem, and you never knew how to respond to all of what he did. It was really for the better that he became a permanent part of the mainframe and whatnot. There wasn’t anybody after that - unless the circle of people you talk to have finally expanded beyond that trio? I certainly hope so. Even if you’ve just found another teacher to bug. This will be better for whatever state you’re currently in. (And I know you’re in a state. I said that you were broadcasting your grief earlier - even if it’s no longer as bad as it was then, I can tell that you are not in the best state.)

(I was going to write out a list of teachers before remembering that I can hardly remember any of the teachers from when I was there. Unless there was someone at the Nocturnal Academy? Are you ever going back there? I might have to pay a little more attention to whatever you’re doing on Earth. Not enough tracking to look like I’m stalking you, but certainly enough to not sit here and guess about what you’re doing. “That’s cheating!” Shush. I’m busy.)

Speaking of being busy - well, you don’t need to learn much more about my immortality experiments. All I can say is that I have not been as successful as I would like to be - or as I normally would be. Nature hates immortality. At least I have that mana generator working well enough - I made enough improvements that I doubt I can make many more without taking away functionality. It resembles an oversized watch - very oversized. Enough so that it became a part of one of my arms. 

(I know that if you could see this you would tell me that it looks ridiculous. At least my coats cover it up well enough.)

Not much else to say for now.

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's much easier to write Alice than Abbacus. i mean. one of them has more things going on while the other is trying to become immortal . . . again. huh. someone remind me what's going on.


	8. Letter Seven

Dribble,

You moved me into a very dark room. What trouble are you getting up to now? Not destroying the lab, I hope. That might just send the school (and a chunk of Australia) to the Immaterium and reopen that barrier between the Immaterium and Necronis’ realm that I spent too much time fixing. If you do anything again, you’ll be the one who is sent to the Immaterium. Or the astral basement. Clearly, you’ve learned nothing.

I’ve only been gone a year. It isn’t time to try to kill me yet.

I built a version of the Mirror of Erised. The original one is still caught up . . . somewhere. I was only able to see the real one once before it was hidden (or destroyed; wouldn’t blame anybody for doing that). That was in the 1980s. Del was in the mirror that time, though that comes as no surprise to your nosy self. He’s even sitting here and laughing as he sees these letters, talking about how he never knew me to be this sentimental towards anybody other than him. 

This version of the Mirror of Erised is fully operational. Del sees nothing in it; he says that that’s because he has everything that he ever wanted. And I see nothing. That’s that for you.

And I know that it’s operational because there’s absolutely nothing that I could change. It works exactly like the old one, with a simple addition of some technomantic elements. A dabble of necromancy to fix some other problems that come with living in an Undead realm.

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> icarus is pushing alice to the back of his head. 
> 
> did he really see nothing in the mirror? only time will tell.


	9. Letter Eight

Alice,

I had almost a year off from you thinking much of anything. No broadcasting pain or you intruding on my thoughts for extended periods of time. There were a few times that Del looked like you but he turned to his normal self soon enough.

And then this happens.

Are you drunk?

You’re broadcasting your pain as if the wound was reopened and you refuse to put a bandage on it. I can hear you wallowing in that pit of self hate (and the one of pity) that I spend too much time in. You don’t need to do that. Take a step back and talk to someone else. I’m not there and I’m not about to be there. This is us taking a break from life threatening adventures (and each other, but that is not the point). You always needed to find someone else to talk to. Here’s your chance.

“But Professor,” I hear you say.

Yes, your family hates you and you could never wipe their memories. And your friends are dating themselves (unless you’re off with Milly? No, but it’s crossed my mind before). Your first boyfriend tried to kill you. The other one never got over his fear for you or your rejection of him. (Talk to him sometime. He needs it too.) But there are people out there. Nightdweller therapists exist, if you so desire.

Here I am giving advice to someone who will never see it.

Shut up, will ya? You’re the smart one who oozes potential. DO SOMETHING.

Sincerely,

Icarus Abbacus


End file.
